


Ways and Means

by Tulikettu



Series: Ways and Means [1]
Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: First Time, Implied Underage Sex, M/M, Marvel Cinematic Verse, Rimming, Role Playing, Tom Holland's American accent, age-gap, film set, sex in trailers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 03:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10608144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tulikettu/pseuds/Tulikettu
Summary: Tom's body hurts from all the crazy stunt things he's had to do. And he misses home.Ryan lies about knowing how to give a genuine massage.Tom won't call Ryan by his actual name.And Ryan might have just fallen in love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part one of three stories I blah'd out for my best friend whilst we were both at work, tidied up and have presented for your delectation. 
> 
> Comment or throw messages at me written in cake. I love to hear from people.

There's no reason for Ryan to still be hanging around on set. There's even less reason for him to still be wearing his Deadpool costume, but he’s doing both. His scene wrapped a while ago and he's been wandering around since, harassing anyone he comes across. They're filming outside right now, though Ryan had made a promise to not go near the street set since one of the stunt cars nearly ran him over two days ago. Totally not his fault. But all the cool kids are out there, and he doesn’t want to get left out-

 

Oh, nearly all the cool kids. His eyes are drawn to the blue and red spandex and the body it covers, sprawled out on one of the crash mats a few feet from the big shutter doors, the sound of squealing tires and shouts of theatrical rage leaking in.

 

But Ryan has something else to focus on now.

 

"Hey, baby boy."

 

Tom's eyes open and he smiles a weary smile.

 

"Hey, Deadpool," he says softly in that  little voice he’s adopted for Spidey. 

 

Ryan grins back. "You okay? You look flattened."

 

"Exhausted. Body hurts," Tom says, back to his normal voice, eyes closing again as he presses the heels of his hands into them. "My stunt double's- you know- he's doing the thing-" 

 

He sounds sad as he says it and Ryan feels bad for him. Everyone is familiar with this kind of exhaustion. When everything hurts and every movement is torture and it’s so bad that even remembering lines is nearly impossible. He flops down onto the crash mat so that they're laying side by side

 

"Hey, Deadpool?" Ryan loves Tom's voice. He loves his American accent, it's soft and raspy and makes him tingle. His normal voice is just as sweet, it’s gentle and bubbly, as though he’s always on the verge of a laugh. 

 

"Hm?" Ryan asks, turning his head to look at the boy beside him.

 

Tom is silent for a second, but Ryan can see his chest moving up and down faster, ribs and muscles obvious under his suit. His muscles-

 

"I miss home-" the boy beside him whispers, frowning at himself. Peter’s voice, not Tom’s. 

 

Ryan frowns as well. "Really?" He understands. Before home was America he missed it terribly. Tom is new to all this, and home is far away. "It's okay, I get it."

 

Tom's eyes are bright when he turns his head to look at Ryan again, but he looks a little less worn. "I know you do." 

 

Ryan feels a little ache in his chest. 

 

"You wanna come back to my trailer?" he asks, because maybe it’s better than having a heart to heart on some crash mats with the sounds of chaos and destruction only a couple of metres away. 

 

"You don’t have a trailer," Tom reminds him gently. 

 

"Oh, yeah.” Ryan is in a total of five scenes. He has twelve lines. He doesn’t get a trailer, he gets an overnight in a hotel. “You want me to come back to your trailer?"

 

Tom laughs, stretching his arms out above his head. "Yeah, okay. As long as you keep your katanas sheathed."

 

Ryan grins, his eyes darting over the view before him, of Tom’s body spread, muscles tight, the bump of the cup between his legs protecting his- uh. He clears his throat and slides to the end of the crash mat. "I'm not making  any promises," he says with a wink, waiting for Tom. 

 

Tom moves stiffly, edging along, trying not to wince, and Ryan remembers him saying he hurts. 

 

"Okay, baby boy, come here-" Ryan says, moving to Tom's side once he reaches the edge, scooping him up into his arms bridal style.

 

"Aw man, Deadpool, I'm not a kid-" Tom whines in his pretty American accent. The  _ kid _ weighs about a pound, Ryan would swear it, and he has no difficulty in carrying him (or skipping with him for a few moments until Tom yelps a protest) all the way back to the trailer park.

 

Tom has his own trailer and Ryan is glad, because everyone needs their own private space. Ryan knows he doesn’t need one here, but there’s a sense of home and grounding when you know you have somewhere full of your things to go back to. Tom has since relaxed into his arms, once Ryan has stopped skipping and started walking at a normal pace, and even little shifts allow Ryan to feel the muscles rippling under his hands. For someone so small, this boy must be almost solid.

 

Tom waves his hands feebly towards his trailer, directing them over to it, and pushing open the door with some effort, possibly due to his rather prone position against Ryan’s chest.

 

Ryan likes the smell that greets them. It reminds him of being young, of his bedroom when he was a teenager. Wow, Tom really is a baby. The air is sugary and full of the scent of clean clean clothes and body spray and sweat. It's a good smell. It’s kind of sexy.

 

He carries Tom up the steps and gets a better look around. Perhaps Tom is really in character, or perhaps he's just a stupid nerd, or maybe he’s both. The walls are covered in pictures and there are comics and books and DVDs and games strewn all over the place with very little semblance of organisation. The bed is small and unmade (Ryan can't ever remember making a trailer bed in his life) and the surfaces are home to various gadgets, gaming devices, entertainment systems, some stuff that Ryan doesn’t even recognise because he’s an old man. But he loves it in here.

 

He moves to the bed and lowers Tom onto it, perching on the edge and watching as the boy reaches into the drawer in his bedside table. Ryan's first thought is of lube, which is awful, and he feels even worse when Tom takes out a framed picture of himself and a gaggle of people.

 

"This is my mum," he says, propping himself up so that he’s a little bit closer to Ryan's side. His voice has changed again, back soft and English. "My dad. These are my best friends."

 

Ryan looks down at the photograph, feeling a warm bubble in his chest at the quiet intimacy of this gesture, of Tom sharing his private life with him. "Girlfriend?" Ryan asks, scanning the picture once again, then looking at Tom for his reaction.

 

Tom shakes his head. "No."

 

"Boyfriend?" Ryan goads, or at least tries to, but Tom’s expression doesn't change. 

 

"No, no boyfriend either." He keeps looking at the photo for a moment, so silent that Ryan feels the need to glance away and not intrude, turning back only when the photograph returns to it’s safe place in the drawer. "Why do you ask?" Tom looks at him and Ryan finds it hard to breathe for a second.

 

"Uh, no, just wondering," he tries, forgetting how to be even remotely cool. He thinks he should probably take his leave now, before he does something stupid. But another silence stretches between them, and Ryan can’t bring himself to move.

 

"Deadpool?" Tom speaks first,  back to his Spidey voice as he returns to his former position lying down on the bed, legs sprawled over the edge so that Ryan can once again see the bulge between his legs. If he’s looking. Which he isn’t. 

 

"Hm? What?" He remembers Tom is talking to him, that he is Deadpool and this is his little Spidey. Ryan refocuses his attention on Tom’s face, and frowns when he sees it screwed up in pain.

 

"Everything hurts."

 

What Ryan should do is offer to get him some pain medication, see if there are any heat pads in first aid, then tell him to get some rest. Instead, Ryan is full of much better ideas and he's sure his are superior to anything any casual first aider would recommend.

 

"Shall I give you a massage?" He asks, keeping his voice casual because why wouldn't it be casual?

 

Tom looks at him with incredulity, and Ryan thinks he's probably already in love with this kid. 

 

"A massage?" Tom asks, and Ryan really does love how unconvinced he seems. "You aren't qualified to give me a massage."

 

"Sure I am!" Ryan lies. "I took a course. In Thailand."

 

"A Thai massage?" Tom raises his eyebrows and Ryan wishes he hadn't embellished his lie so much. "I said to keep your katanas sheathed."

 

Yeah, Ryan really is in love. 

 

"My katanas won’t be involved. I promise," he holds his hands up in supplication, grinning as Tom gives him another look that says a million words. A million lovely words that span the spectrum between endearing sentiment and explicit suggestion. "You're in pain, let me help you."

 

Ryan honestly doesn't expect Tom to actually let him touch him. He tries to remember how old Tom is and if touching him would be seen as a federal crime, but he remembers seeing pictures of him drinking somewhere with the others, all flushed cheeks and big smiles, so he must be at least 21, right? And also he’s English, and Ryan is sure their legal age is way below America’s for everything, so it’s fine. Totally fine.

 

Tom shifts around and lays down on his stomach, head cradled on his arms. The boy has curves some girls would kill for, and Ryan knows he's openly gaping at his ass. True the costume gives a certain boost, but Tom has to be working with something to begin with-

 

"Can I uh, unzip you?" Ryan asks eagerly. "Or you can keep your clothes on, I don't mind either way."

 

"Is your Katana sheathed?" Tom asks, turning his head slightly so that their eyes meet. "Is it staying that way?"

 

Ryan thinks, he supposes, that Tom is going in character. That it's Spider-Man and Deadpool. He doesn't suppose for a moment that Tom would have the gall to actually ask Ryan that personally. 

 

"Cross my heart, Spidey," Ryan replies, reaching for the zip under cover of his character. How much can he get away with pretending to be Deadpool? How far before it starts getting a little too real?

 

Ryan reaches for the invisible zip at the back of Tom's suit, sliding it down. The costume is tight, the zip going right down to where the curve of Tom's ass starts. He drags it down  slowly, feeling each little vibration of the teeth in his fingers and knowing Tom will feel it down his spine. It's only when Ryan reaches his lower back, as the zip starts to curve up, that Tom lets out a breath.

 

"Okay?" Ryan asks, sliding his hand up the skin of Tom's back. He's still got his gloves on and Tom shudders, goosebumps rising on his pale skin. "You want me to take these off?"

 

"Did they teach you to use leather gloves in Thailand?" Tom asks. Ryan struggles to hear which voice he's speaking in. 

 

"No," he replies, because it's an excuse to get some skin on skin. "But we were all naked when we were training."

 

Tom laughs, and Ryan's eyes fall back down to his bottom, watching it move with the little shakes through Tom's body. Yes, Deadpool is absolutely Ryan's spirit animal.

 

He pulls off both of his gloves with his teeth, throwing them into the floor before running his fingers hard up Tom's back. The groan that escapes the boy beneath him goes straight to Ryan's cock. Which is really unfortunate because he's not wearing his cup.

 

Ryan's hands push the loosened fabric off of Tom's shoulders. His back is so toned, but he's also still small.  _ Easy to throw around _ . Ryan squeezes his eyes closed to push that thought away.

 

His hands move up Tom's back again, pressing firmly and pulling another moan from the boy beneath him. Ryan is pretty confident he’s really not as good at massages as these noises are indicating.

 

"Do you have any body lotion or anything?" Ryan asks quietly, trying to keep his voice even. It's more than likely, there can be some chaffing in the suits.

 

"Mmph," Tom murmurs, lazily pointing at his second drawer down, which Ryan leans forward to open. The first thing he sees is a tube of lubricant and a box of condoms. His cock throbs again, breath catching. Pull it together, Ryan. Come on, man. 

 

"Single, are you?" he asks, pulling out his evidence and dropping it onto the pillow by Tom's head. A flush creeps over his cheeks, but he still meets Ryan's eyes. 

 

"Yeah. I can still have sex, can't I?" he asks unabashedly, despite the blush.  _ American accent _ .

 

"Uh huh- and the lube?" Ryan asks. 

 

Tom gives him a long, steady look, and when Ryan doesn't offer any alternatives of his own, Tom supplies-

 

"I can still have sex, can't I? Even with myself?" 

 

Ryan knows he's going to be jerking off over those words and the accompanying mental images later. Several times. 

 

"Back when I was a kid we just spat in our hands," he laughs, trying to diffuse the tension. Perhaps tension that only he feels.

 

"Well, that's no good if I want to put something inside myself, is it?" Tom honest-to-God purrs, and Ryan has to reach between his legs to adjust himself slightly, even though that's just awful, torturous friction, and really not subtle. His brain has melted. This kid is going to end him.

 

"What-?" he stutters out, clearing his throat. "Uh- what- what do you put inside yourself?" 

 

Tom blinks at him, then lifts his shoulder in a shrug. "You're supposed to be massaging me."

 

Ryan gazes back for a moment, lips parted, eyes slightly glazed, and then goes back to the drawer, finding the nice Norwegian body lotion that will do the job. Tom is still looking at the lubricant and the condoms on his pillow that Ryan hasn't put away, frowning at him when he closes the drawer and leaves them where they are.

 

Ryan ignores the questioning look and shifts on the bed so that he’s straddling Tom's thighs, squeezing the lotion onto his hands and then placing them on Tom's back. The boy jumps beneath him, sucking in a breath at the cold touch.

 

"Sorry," Ryan smirks, resuming the motion of running his hands up Tom's back, firm along the tight muscles. But his skin is so smooth, lightly tanned, a few patches of freckles on his shoulder blades-

 

"Fingers?" he asks, though he doesn't know why because his suit is going to get really uncomfortable really quickly if he continues. "Do you have a toy? Have you ever had a cock inside you?"

 

"There's no sexual tension between us," Tom rasps. "It's all in your head." His voice is rather strained and Ryan smirks. Leaning forward he slots himself against Tom's back, brushing his lips against the back of his neck.

 

Tom shivers and goosebumps reappear immediately, blossoming over his skin from the spot Ryan’s lips touch. .

 

"No? But you like this, don't you, Spidey? Why are you denying yourself? Everyone needs to wind down sometimes-"

 

"You're a distraction I don't need," Tom replies, and Ryan smirks. He can tell from the other man’s voice that he isn’t genuinely serious, that he doesn’t actually want Ryan to stop. And Tom brought him back here so willingly. Let this all fall into place so willingly-

 

Ryan drags his tongue slowly down the boy's spine, watching Tom's fingers begin to flex in the sheets. How far are they going to get before one of them chickens out?

 

"Deadpool-" Ryan wonders what he'd have to do to get Tom to say his actual name. Why he's pretending this isn’t happening between  _ them _ . Then again, in Tom's position, he'd probably do the same. "Stop." 

 

"It doesn't sound like you want me to stop," Ryan whispers, not moving, lips poised midway down Tom’s back.. He's happy that at least Tom doesn't feel so intimidated that he can't say no to him. 

 

Tom doesn't say anything for a moment, but Ryan waits, unmoving. Then the boy beneath him shifts and looks over his shoulder, his eyes half lidded, a delightful little smirk on his face.

 

"I don't think fucking me into this really hard bed is going to do anything for my muscle aches," Tom says. Ryan pictures it and, Goddamn, he wants to make this trailer shake. "Stop thinking about it."

 

"You put the image in my head! How can I not!" Ryan whines. "You're really playing hard to get, Spidey."

 

"Maybe for good reason. Do you even know how old I am, Deadpool?"

 

Ryan blinks, struggling again to remember. Tom is definitely legal, they've worked that out. But Spidey- and Wade is like forty so either way, in any scenario, this kid is at least half Ryan's age. 

 

"I'm seventeen," Tom is smirking, his lips curling even more when  Ryan eyes close for a moment. They really are playing a dangerous game. Ryan  _ is _ allowed to think it's hot, isn't he? 

 

"You're old enough to know what you want," he says gruffly. "Tell me what you want." His eyes have opened now, fixed on Tom's, daring him to go on. 

 

"I want you to make the aching stop," Tom says softly, sweetly, and Ryan hates him and loves him all at once. 

 

"I can do that, baby boy. I promise. And if you wanna stop you just tell me, okay?" Ryan says, hoping Tom trusts that. Well, no, he seems to trust Ryan. He hasn't made him get off of the bed yet, and Ryan is certain Tom must be able to feel the heat from between his legs against the back of his thigh. No cup.

 

Tom looks at the lube beside him and then again over his shoulder at Ryan. "Do you always get your way?"

 

"No," Ryan replies, completely honestly. Neither does Wade. They have a lot in common.

 

The truth in his words does something to Tom. He nods, his expression softer. "Just- try and be gentle with me?" he asks, so quietly and sincerely that Ryan wants to wrap his arms around him and hold him. 

 

"You're my Spider-Man, not Wolverine, I won't break you, I promise."

 

"Do you want me to take my suit off?" Tom asks, but Ryan shakes his head.

 

"I'll do it. There's no rush." He smiles and his tongue resumes its path down Tom's back, slipping down his spine until he's hindered by the fabric. Ryan doesn't want to rip it (he does, but he doesn't want to deal with the trouble that will cause) so he slides his way back up Tom's body, hooking his fingers into the loose ends of the costume and guiding it down the boy's shoulders and arms. Sweet Jesus, those are good arms.

 

Tom helps, at least a little bit, lifting his body up one half at a time so that his arms can be freed. Ryan can't help but trail his fingertips over the solid biceps, watching as they, too, get covered in goosebumps. More freckles, more tanned skin. He brushes his lips over Tom’s shoulder and feels the tremble beneath him. For a moment Ryan is lost there in the smell of warmth and Tom’s deodorant, before he remembers he has permission to get to all of Tom's body and he doesn't want that window of opportunity to close. 

 

He moans when Tom arches up so that he can pull the material down his body, because Tom's ass presses against his groin -his unprotected, lycra clad groin- and  _ God _ , everything about this boy really is toned muscle.

 

Tom smirks, Ryan can see it. He wonders if all of this game is just to drive Ryan crazy with lust. If it is, the boy is a pro.

 

He reaches Tom’s hips and the waistband of his underwear (also to prevent chaffing) his fingers hooking into them without further permission. But he’s slow, slow so that Tom can change his mind and tell him to stop if he wants to, though soon enough the fabric is pulled down over the curve of his bottom that Ryan is safely convinced that he’s not going to be stopped. 

 

Tom lifts his hips, pushing himself up on his elbows so that Ryan can pull the lower half of his costume down, letting out a little sigh when his cock is freed from the cup that is compressing it. Ryan’s fingers drag down his thighs with the material, inching to the foot of the bed until Tom is fully unclothed. Christ, he’s lovely to look at. 

 

Tom’s head turns slightly, looking over his shoulder at Ryan. It’s almost sinful how beautiful he is, and how hard he’s made Ryan. And that’s an inarguable fact, because his cock is fully hard and outlined very clearly against his thigh in the clingy fabric of Deadpool’s costume. Tom’s eyes flick down, linger there, his gaze tracing Ryan from balls to tip like a caress. He knows exactly what he’s fucking doing. 

 

Waiting until their eyes lock, Ryan holds that gaze as he lowers himself, pressing his lips to the back of Tom’s knee, then working his way slowly up his thigh, the muscles quivering and Tom’s eyes sliding closed again finally. Ryan’s lips move slightly to his inner thigh, nibbling at the soft skin, drawing little whimpers and gasps from the boy beneath him. Tom’s fingers are twisting in the sheets again, the flush that had started in his cheeks working it’s way down the rest of his body, writhing accompanied by more whimpers, more tiny moans when Ryan’s mouth reaches his backside. 

 

“You done this before?” Ryan asks, kissing his way over Tom’s bottom, taking a cheek in each hand and groping him roughly, parting them and pursing his lips to blow against Tom’s entrance. The younger man cries out softly, and Ryan is resisting the urge to immediately start eating him out. “Spidey?”

 

Tom’s shrugging, wriggling gesture doesn’t really tell Ryan anything, and he can’t see Tom’s face properly from this angle, as much as he loves the view he does have. His hands move to his new lover’s hips, guiding him onto his back, Tom’s legs spreading easily either side of Ryan’s torso. His cock is hard against his stomach, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his staggered, aroused breathing. Ryan drinks him in, moving his palms up Tom’s thighs, caressing his hips, his belly, and then back down again, trying not to smirk too smugly at the way Tom arches into his touch. 

 

Once his hands are back on his thighs, Ryan lifts them slightly, easing them up onto his shoulders and turning his head to kiss the inside of Tom’s thigh again, working his way back down between his legs, gripping each thigh to keep them parted as he lowers his mouth back to the tight ring of muscle and pushes his tongue against it, pressing inside for just a second. Ryan’s glad that he’s gripping Tom’s thighs so hard when he bucks up and back towards Ryan’s face, crying out again. Tom might have bruises tomorrow. 

 

“Okay, Spidey?”

 

Tom nods, more convincing this time since Ryan can see his face, the blissful expression on it.

 

“More?”

 

Another nod, and Ryan is so thankful for that because he’s pretty sure he’ll die if they have to stop now. He’ll stop if he’s asked, of course, but his balls will never be the same again. 

 

He doesn't want to overwhelm Tom too soon, so he spends a few moments just circling Tom's entrance with his tongue, enjoying the way Tom quivers with each round. Ryan can feel him relaxing, and it's then he once again pushes into Tom, finding less resistance than before. But Tom still mews in pleasure, his fingers gripping the sheets tighter as Ryan's tongue curls and pulses in and out.

 

They really are beautiful noises.

 

Tom is breathless and each mew is a slightly higher octave than the last. Lifting his gaze, Ryan can watch Tom's cock as it leaks over his stomach, twitches, reacts to the pleasure.

 

He pulls back.

 

It takes a second for Tom to realise that everything has stopped, and he opens his eyes blearily. "What?"

 

"I’ve changed my mind. I think you’ve had enough? You seem more relaxed than before."

 

Ryan is impressed that Tom still manages to look surly when his cheeks are flushed and his legs are over Ryan's shoulders.

 

"This is why no one likes you, Wade," he says. "You're mean."

 

Ryan laughs, turning his head to press a kiss against the soft skin of Tom's inner thigh. "It's how I do, baby boy. But I did what I promised, I think. Don't tell me your muscles still hurt."

 

Tom frowns. "Are you really going to leave me like this? What about you? Going to go and wank in an alley?"

 

"Don't you worry about me, Spidey. I have many ways and means," Ryan chuckles. He's leaning up, preparing to move, to tease Tom some more, to pretend he's leaving, when a sharp pain in his head makes him gasp. Tom's fingers are wound in his hair, as short as it is, forcing him to stay in place. Tom is strong. Of course Tom is strong. Ryan likes it.

 

"Don't you dare think of leaving."

 

"No, sir," Ryan grins, moaning as Tom pulls his hair again, tipping his head back. That’s right there on his list of kinks.

 

"You need to learn to finish what you start, Wade. Or other people are going to get credit for your hard work."

 

Veiled behind those words Ryan is sure there's a snarky little threat. Does Tom think Ryan would be bothered if he fucks the whole cast? Okay, so he would, but still. Is Tom going to call Sebastian in here to finish him off?

 

Right now, Ryan isn't sure that he wouldn't.

 

“Have you done this before?”

 

Tom hesitates, then shakes his head, and he seems more embarrassed by that than he is by what they’re actually doing. “I’ve only- only used my fingers. And toys. And things. I’ve never-”

 

“No one’s ever fucked you-” Ryan whispers, smirking.  _ Things? What things? He’d let someone punch him in the gut if he could find out what things- _

 

“No one’s ever fucked me,” Tom replies, opening his eyes. “Are you going to?”

 

Ryan almost blows his load in his suit right then, which would probably ruin any possibility of him being able to do what Tom is suggesting. “Do you want me to?” They barely know each other, Ryan is driven by lust, Tom- he can’t tell what would drive Tom to agree to this. 

 

“Yes,” comes the blunt response that makes Ryan throb. “You want me, Wade?”

 

“Jesus, of course I do,” Ryan whimpers, wondering how Tom has managed to take control of this whole situation with just his words when Ryan has his legs spread open, his body open to him. “You want me to keep going?”

 

Tom nods, his legs slightly tighter around Ryan, tiny ripples of nervousness rolling off of him. 

 

"Pass me that-" Ryan says, pointing at the lubricant beside Tom's head. Tom turns slowly to look at it, and for a moment he seems to be unable to get the message to his hands. But he reaches, he grasps, he passes the bottle to Ryan, who reluctantly relinquishes his hold on Tom's thigh to take it. 

 

He unbuckles Deadpool's belt. He's always liked that sound, metal on metal, and right now it's just the sexiest, given the situation. He isn't going to undress, that isn't very Wade. He’s going to strip just enough.

 

His cock is somehow harder than Ryan has realised. At least that's what he thinks when he shifts his pants down and feels the blissful relief of pressure around it. He hums happily, then remembers that it's going to get oh-so-much better.

 

When he looks up again Tom's expression is wary. Ryan knows he's looking between his legs, but Ryan also knows he isn't that big. Big enough, but average. A size people enjoy. Then again it's Tom's first time and he probably hasn't seen a hard dick that isn't his own so maybe it's a bit intimidating. 

 

"If it hurts I'll stop," he says gently. "I promise, Spidey."

 

"You're really going to- we're going to-?"

 

"We can do something else, if you like? I can go down on you or just jerk you off-" Ryan says softly, because Tom's eyes are wide and nervous and Ryan doesn't want him to regret this in any way. 

 

Tom shakes his head though. "No- no I want this."

 

"This is your first time," Ryan reminds him. "It doesn't have to be with me."

 

"I know," Tom says. "I want it to be, though."

 

Ryan is honestly a little gobsmacked at that, it seems like an honour he's not worthy of. This has spiralled and now here they are and-

 

"I'll take really good care of you, baby boy," Ryan says, releasing Tom's legs, lowering them back down onto the bed. "Relax, okay? 

 

Tom nods. Would Spider-Man trust Deadpool as much as Tom seems to trust him? No, probably not. Maybe not?

 

Ryan opens the lubricant, squeezes some onto his hands. The tube isn't very full, and Ryan wonders how much of this has been used by Tom to fill himself with-

 

His cock twitches.

 

"Do you need me to use my fingers?" he asks. Because if it's just his fantasy that Tom fucks himself with things then Tom will need it-

 

Tom shakes his head. Oh God, now Ryan's brain is going to go into overdrive and he might break.

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"Dammit, Wade-" Tom huffs and smiles. Ryan smiled back. Whatever makes Tom more comfortable. "I want you. Please?"

 

Ryan strokes his fingers over himself, slicking up his cock, biting his lip and focussing on anything else other than the friction because if he comes in his hand he’s never going to be able to face anyone ever again. "You ready, Spidey?" he asks, voice ragged as he crawls forward, bracing himself over Tom's body, his erection dragging over Tom's belly. 

 

"Yeah. I'm ready-" he stretches out and lifts his legs up, wrapping them around Ryan's back, opening his body for him again. 

 

Ryan braces himself on one hand and then reaches back down between them, guiding his cock towards Tom's entrance. His head presses against the muscles as his tongue had done earlier. Tom's body is relaxed, moreso than before, and though he still feels  _ so _ tight, Ryan can press into him.

 

Tom's back arches and his eyes slide close again. It's the single most beautiful thing Ryan has ever seen in his life. He pushes forward slowly, gradually, into the tight heat that is gripping him perfectly. 

 

He doesn't stop until he's fully sheathed in Tom, dipping his head to press a kiss to the boy's sweaty neck. Tom moans, breathing slowly and shifting slightly, getting used to Ryan inside him. 

 

Ryan doesn't care if he never gets to move, the rippling and clenching of Tom's muscles will get him off, along with the expression on his face, the grip of his legs, the flush that's creeping down his skin-

 

"You still okay, Spidey?" Ryan whispers, brushing the words against Tom's ear. He feels Tom nod. "Want me to move?"

 

"Slowly," Tom replies. He tips his head slightly, their faces suddenly very close. Tom's eyes are dancing, crinkling at the edges. "Make love to me, Wade."

 

Ryan knows it's a joke, that Tom is still playing with him, but the words still affect him. He knows they shouldn't, not this much, but shit, he's only human.

 

Ryan rolls his hips back and pushes forward again, watching the expression on Tom's face. It's thoughtful, a little frown, but he's not in pain. Ryan is thankful for that, but also curious as to what Tom has been doing to make this not painful. 

 

The second thrust draws a little moan, the third curls a smile on Tom's lips. Ryan is going slowly, Tom asked for making love, so it's going to be slow. His lips are still pressing against Tom's throat, and slowly he finds their arms wrapping around each other. Tom's nails run down his back, and Ryan desperately wishes he'd taken his clothes off, because he can't feel almost enough of Tom through his suit. Ryan's arms have tucked beneath Tom's, thumbs stroking his biceps, nuzzling him.

 

Tom's body is tightening up slightly already, but it's not going to be the mind blowing orgasm Ryan wants him to have.

 

"Hold on, baby boy," he whispers, shifting forward and lifting Tom’s lower body slightly so that he's getting a better, deeper angle. 

 

Tom cries out, all of his muscles clenching. Ryan smiles against his skin.

 

"You've never felt that before," Ryan says. It doesn't need to be a question, it's a fact. All this time and Tom has never been that deep. 

 

Ryan rolls his hips slowly, and each time he pushes in Tom cries softly and clenches. Ryan wonders if it's uncomfortable for him to have his erection rubbing against the leather of Deadpool's suit, but Tom's hips are lifting up to meet him, too, so it can't be that bad.

 

"You're getting close," Ryan says, again a statement. Tom nods his head, his fingers gripping harder at Ryan's shoulders. 

 

The pace changes slightly. Ryan is staying slow, but he's pushing deeper, staying deep, keeping the stimulation on point. Tom's breath is coming out in little gasps, littered with cries that grow louder and louder and it's difficult for Ryan to not speed up, but this is the pace that is going to make Tom come.

 

"Yes- yeah, yes-" Tom has him in a tight grip, his legs, his arms, his muscles, and Ryan can feel every tremble. "Yes, Ryan-" Tom's eyes fly open for a second, but then he's coming and his expression melts into one of complete bliss.

 

Ryan wants to swear it's the tight grip on his cock that brings his orgasm pulsing through him, but he's more certain that it's the way Tom rasps his name, the surprise, the fact that in that moment he's thinking of Ryan, that it's not a game. He groans as he fills the body beneath him, dick pulsing, stars bursting behind his eyelids for a few perfect moments. 

 

 Tom is still trembling with the shock of his orgasm, his muscles tight around Ryan, still rippling and gripping with pleasure. Ryan is happy to lay like this and wait.

 

He can feel Tom's heart beating rapidly and again he wishes he weren't covered in leather, because skin on skin would be so good right now.

 

"You okay, baby boy?" Ryan asks after a little while, kissing the line of Tom's jaw. He feels the boy beneath him nod, perhaps too aware of the last thing he said to trust opening his mouth again.

 

Gradually Tom's legs relax and drop onto the bed. He has marvellous thighs. Of course he does. And a marvellous ass. Next time Ryan is going to have him on his front so he ca-

 

Next time?

 

He pulls slowly out of Tom's body, and immediately wished he hadn't. He misses the feeling, he wants it back, and Tom sighs so softly at his absence it seems almost criminal to not push straight back in. 

 

"Do you want to- shall I go get us some sodas or something?" Ryan asks. "Are you thirsty?"

 

"You don't have to," Tom replies, rubbing his face with the heels of his hands. "Thanks but- it's fine."

 

American accent.

 

Ryan has done his fair share of zipping up and leaving in his time, but it doesn't feel okay right now. He's tucking himself away, though, and zipping up, and wondering if Tom wants anything to cover himself with.

 

Tom, however, is just stretched out on the bed like a big contented cat, inches and inches and inches of pale skin and tight muscles. His eyes are closed and he's smiling.

 

Ryan stands up, straightens his clothing, finds his gloves, and prepares to leave Tom to sleep.

 

"Hey, Deadpool?" Tom's voice is a little rasp and barely reaches him at the door. Ryan turns, smiling at the sight of Tom now curled up around one of his pillows.

 

"Hm?"

 

"I feel much better now. Thank you."

 

Ryan nods his head, opening the trailer door. "You're welcome, Spidey."

 


End file.
